A few days after my brother passed away, we got his stuff.
And with his stuff, was his name tag.
The one he was wearing when he passed away.
As soon as I saw it, I grabbed it.
It's ovbiously been worn, you can tell it wasn't new.
I kept running my fingers over the indented letters on the front.
I turned it over, and found these stickers.
I asked his mission president's wife about the stickers, and she told me he used them to help teach kids about the Gospel.
I informed my siblings and my parents that I would really like to have it.
I don't care if I have anything else of Trevor's, I want this name tag.
I wore it the day of the viewing, and again at the funeral, clipped to the bottom of my sweater.
Now it sits on my kitchen counter, on top of a pile of pictures and CD's.
I can see it when I'm cooking dinner, and doing the dishes.
I still pick it up from time to time and run my fingers over the indented letters on the front.
I think about how many times he must have picked it up, and clipped it on his short sleeved, button down, white shirt pocket, and left his apartment to go preach the Gospel he loved so much.
And I turn it over and run my fingers over the worn stickers on the back.
This name tag makes me smile.